The Black Parade
by IfEaRnOfIsH
Summary: Those who have been drawn to the glittering bell gather to remember the one who was perhaps the luckiest of them all. The one who forgot. A song fic, "The Black Parade." By My Chemical Romance.


**Disclaimer:  
It's quite simple. Honest. I don't own Doctor Who, or My Chemical Romance. **

**Author's note:  
This is not my usual crack fic. I read the sad story of Hannah Bond, and felt compelled to write something in her memory. Based upon the song, "Welcome to the Black Parade." By My Chemical Romance.**

**The Black Parade**

Boots crunched underfoot as the small group made its way through the snow.

It wasn't real snow, of course.

These days, it never was.

But if they closed their eyes for one second, just the one _shining_ second, they could pretend that it was real snow that fell from the sky, and not the remains of a defeated ship disintegrating into the atmosphere. They could ignore the ash of the bodies that had once harboured the souls lost in the latest battle over the skies.

But, if they kept their eyes closed, they wouldn't be able to see where they were going, so they had to keep them open.

But their eyes were open to more than the average human could see.

Each member had one thing in common.

They had been attracted by the glittering life that lay beyond two wooden doors, and like magpies, they had dived without a moment's thought.

But each had been struck by the paw of the cat who carried the glinting bell around his neck. The cat despised the bell; it weighed him down, and its horrible tone kept him running. He rang his bell to warn the magpies of his danger, but all they saw was that _damn glitter_.

And once their wings had been injured, he left them.

But they still craved for the glitter of the bell, and for the sparkle that had caught their eye.

But they knew now the bell meant danger. The lesson was taught at the highest of prices.

They knew this well.

There were four of them, in all.

Their hands found each other's as they approached their destination.

Captain Jack Harkness held up his chin defiantly to the wild wind that threatened to batter them. He was thankful for the long, blue coat that he wore, but yet the cold still chilled him to the bone. He shuddered involuntary, and the wind gave a triumphant moan. He lifted his chin higher, and ignored it.

Martha Jones, (Or Milligan, as she preferred to be called), sniffed beside him; he released her hand and offered to share one half of his coat with him. She gave him a grateful look, and snuggled in, wrapping her arms around his waist as he folded his coat around her.

She had a terrible cold, but yet she ploughed onwards through the fake snow, determined not to miss what was about to happen. She craved warmth, and a horrible phrase she had told another like herself leapt to the front of her mind, and left an imprint of the soul who had paid no heed to her warning behind her eyelids.

_When you get too close, you get burnt. _

Martha coughed over the sudden sob that had leapt out and seized her, and Jack's grip on her shoulders tightened.

Mickey, obviously feeling quite threatened by Jack's display of heroism, offered some of his duffel coat to Sarah Jane, who gave him a fond look and politely declined. Affronted, he shrugged back into it with a stony look.

He hardly ever got his own way. He had often compared himself to a whining kid, who had had his toys snatched from him by an older boy. And it wasn't just toys.

The cat had prowled amongst the flowerbed, and found the rose. The cat had meant to be gentle. He toyed with it, batting its fragile petals with its paw, until one of his claws ripped them apart. He had to leave the rose.

Perhaps she had been lucky.

Sarah Jane had the most horrifying stories to tell, but she wouldn't speak of them. And, after all these years, the sparkle still called out to her, its cry potent. So she chased adventures on the world she was trapped on.

Because there was one thing they all agreed on as one.

There was no going back. Not ever.

They carried on. That was all they could do.

And, today, they gathered to remember one, who had most probably been the most fortunate.

She had been awarded for her courage grandly.

She forgot.

'I wish there could be a big memorial.' Martha mused sadly, before sneezing. She wiped her nose on a tissue from a pack, which was becoming a regular occupant in her hand bag. Not just for the sneezes. They could serve to hide the tears.

'You know why we can't have one.' Jack murmured in her ear. 'She'd remember.'

Martha nodded miserably.

'Still,' Mickey added. 'Would be nice.'

'Hmm. It would be.' Sarah Jane echoed an agreement. She fumbled with her black overcoat.

They had all chosen to wear black. It was because they had gathered to remember someone who no longer lived. Not as the same person, anyway.

'Who's got it?' Mickey suddenly asked.

'I have.' Martha said, stepping out of the shelter of Jack's coat for a moment to fumble within the pockets of her own coat. Her frozen fingers managed to lock onto the one object that lay alone in her pocket, and held it in her palm, cupping it as if it were a relic.

Maybe it was.

It was a gold ring.

***

_Martha grinned, exhilarated, as the TARDIS gave her customary whirr. He bounced around the console, grinning madly at everyone who stood around the endless buttons and levers. Jackie Tyler peered over Mickey's shoulder, determined to at least __**watch **__them drive the bloody thing. Martha noted, without the pang of jealousy she had expected, that he sent Rose Tyler winning smiles that he had never sent Martha in her time she had spent travelling with him. She recognised their unspoken love, and felt happy for them. Her eyes wondered around the TARDIS console room happily, until something captured them. _

_The new him stared at her intently beside Donna, who had a distant look in her eyes. _

_He titled his head slightly. The movement was for Martha alone, and the enthralled occupants barely noticed. She understood. He wanted to talk._

_She backed away from the console slightly, and watched as Jack and Sarah Jane unwittingly moved closer together to fill the gap automatically. Satisfied, she moved to the side of the console, meeting him in the middle._

'_Yeah?' She said in a low whisper, noting the sad look in his eyes. He threw the distant Donna an anxious look over his shoulder, before turning back to the expectant Martha. _

'_She hasn't got much time left.' He confessed sadly._

'_Why?' Martha questioned. She felt tears spring up behind her eyes, unbidden. It just wasn't __**fair**__. _

'_Her head's gonna' burn up.' He said. 'She can't handle a Time Lord consciousness.' _

'_Isn't there anything you can do?!' Martha demanded in a low whisper. She wanted to bite back her harsh demand, though, when she noticed that his own eyes were shining._

'_He'll have to wipe her mind. She won't be able to remember anything, but it'll save her.' He choked._

'_She'll forget all of this?' Martha asked, indicating to the TARDIS console room. He gave her a sad nod._

_Before Martha could say anything else or suggest another useless alternative, he took her right hand and placed a small, circular object within it. To shield it from the others, he rested both hands on her now closed palm._

'_Just remember for her. For us. Please.' He begged. Martha gave him a scared nod. His hands squeezed hers for a moment, and then dropped it as he walked back to Donna without one look behind him. _

_Martha opened her palm a fraction to peer at the object that had been entrusted to her._

_The gold ring lay on her palm. _

_Golden innocence. _

_Martha closed her palm again to shield the ring from her tears._

_It just wasn't __**fair**__._

***

Martha cupped the ring in both palms now, shielding it from the wind that threatened to snatch it from her. Jack peered in at it, smiling in fond memories of the woman who had persisted at nothing to receive just one of his hugs. He often thought of her, feet propped up on his desk, sipping Ianto's coffee. He always thought that if he had known her fate, then he would have granted her all the hugs in the world.

Martha thought of her often, too. She always thought that she should have been more persistent with her warning. _FIRE! _She could have screamed. _DON'T GET TOO CLOSE! _But she knew, in part of her grief stricken mind, that Donna wouldn't have listened. No one told Donna what to do.

Sarah Jane had noticed it too. _There's something about you. _She had thought at the time. _There's something truly __**magnificent **__about you, but I don't know what. _Sarah Jane hadn't realised it until it was too late to do anything about it anymore.

Mickey hadn't really got to know her. He had pitied her, and had entertained thoughts of warning Donna away. He often thought back to the night the Earth was stolen from its place in the sky, and wondered if her sacrifice had been for nothing.

Well, only a lucky handful knew the Donna that no longer roamed the skies, happily giving a lonely man her company.

He was lonely for a reason.

They all knelt down as one to the little spot they had picked out the other day. The tiny hole in the ground was still easy to see, even though the "Snow" had filled it in. Sarah Jane reached in and scooped out the ash that had accumulated in the bottom. Mickey burrowed himself deeper into his unshared duffel coat. Sarah Jane pulled her coat around her tighter. Jack gave Martha's shoulder a there-ness squeeze.

Only a lucky handful had gotten to know her. And, how _lucky _there were.

Martha held the ring between her finger and thumb for a moment, and squinted slightly when she held it up to examine it in the sun. And her UNIT training told her it contained a complex route of wires, designed to hide.

A bio-damper.

Oh, so _totally _him.

'Bye Donna.' She choked.

'Bye Donna.' The others echoed.

And she dropped the ring into the hole, and each partook in covering it tenderly with earth. They helped each other up, and took each other's hand, their faces turned up boldly to the sky.

'We remember her.' They promised it. The wind disliked their bravery, and whipped their hair into their faces. They ignored it determinedly, and began walking back to wherever they came from.

They almost paraded their sense of togetherness, draped in black.

The Black Parade.

On a lonely Cheswick estate, somewhere in London, young lost woman was taunted for the distant look behind her eyes as she looked up at the sky. Her mother called her inside, in fear that memories that should remain sleeping should awaken again.

It was understood.

He had been here.

And, oh _God_, how the magpies longed for that glitter.

**For those of you who do not know, "The Black Parade" is a belief of the band of the people who are branded as "Emos." I find this sterotype cruel and unforgiving; it states that all people who like to wear dark clothes and listen to alternative rock self harm and are lonely in themselves. This is not the case. But yet, it is the human need to belong to a group that drives people in stereotypes like this. And there are groups that go to the extreme.  
Hannah Bond found one of these groups, and paid the price.  
If you have not heard of her tragic story, I recommend you do. It is heart wrenching, and I recommend you take everything in serioussness. Her story shocked me to the very core. And, I beg of you, please, do not _ever _go "Baa." Why do we all have to belong to a group? Can't we not just be the wonderful individual people that are? And should be? Be your own person, and protect your values.  
To the Bond family, I offer my deepest condolences in what must be the most difficult time.  
And to Hannah Bond, rest in peace, and I DO hope you find your Black Parade.**


End file.
